


A Window of Opportunity

by WorryinglyInnocent



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), The Tournament (2009)
Genre: A Monthly Rumbelling, Anyelle, F/M, Macelle - Freeform, Runaway Bride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 01:19:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11886891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorryinglyInnocent/pseuds/WorryinglyInnocent
Summary: One spring morning, Father Macavoy helps Belle French to stop her best friend making the worst mistake of her life, and the two grow a little closer.A macelle fic written for the Monthly Rumbelling prompt: “Runaway bride”





	A Window of Opportunity

**Author's Note:**

> This is not C$ friendly. At all. You have been warned.

When Belle entered the large and opulently decorated church, the last thing that she expected was the priest racing up the aisle after her as she was looking for her seat and bundling her off into the vestry. She had been expecting to sit down, watch her friend get married, and then go and drown her sorrows in champagne at the wedding reception. Belle would admit that drowning one's sorrows was not usually what one was expected to do at wedding receptions, but Belle had long since viewed the impending nuptials as less of a wedding and more of a funeral. Emma's choice of life partner had been the cause of more than one heated argument between her and Belle, and was the reason why Belle was not, as had always been expected, Emma's maid of honour. It was only comparatively recently that she had even been re-invited to the wedding. 

Belle, to put it bluntly, could not stand Emma's fiancé Killian, and was of the distinct impression that marrying him was the worst thing that her friend could do. She had already noticed the way that Emma had changed since she had been with the man, and she was certain that marriage would be the final nail in the coffin of her once vibrant personality.

“Father, what’s going on?” Belle asked. “What’s happening?”

“Shh, let’s not cause a panic.”

Belle had to raise her eyebrows at that. Of all the people involved in this wedding who were likely to panic, she would have put Father Macavoy down at the top of the list. He was a good man, who had listened to her laments about the forthcoming marriage with a kind and sympathetic ear, offering guidance as best he could in the middle of a very delicate situation. He pushed Belle into the vestry and closed the door firmly behind them. Belle was surprised to see Emma pacing up and down the small room in her wedding dress. Belle had not seen Emma’s wedding dress, after the final argument that had resulted in her being removed from her maid of honour duties. She was sure that on anyone else, the dress would have looked lovely, but it really did not sit right on Emma. She looked uncomfortable in it, and it really wasn’t her style. If anyone would be inclined for a vintage-inspired Grace Kelly knock-off, then it was Belle herself, but even she would be dubious about this particular frock.

“Oh Belle, thank God you’re here.” Emma saw her friend and stopped her pacing.

“Emma, what’s going on?”

“I can’t do this,” she said. “I can’t go through with this.”

Belle sighed. Emma had put her on the spot here, because what was she supposed to say? What was it that Emma wanted to hear? Should she express her gratitude that she’d finally come to her senses and listened to what Belle had been saying all along, or should she grit her teeth and swallow her opinions and tell her friend that it was going to be all right and that pre-wedding jitters were perfectly natural? And what about Father Macavoy, what would he say to her advice knowing as he did her deepest, darkest thoughts about Emma and Killian’s relationship and being sworn to the secrecy of the confessional? She decided that honesty was the best policy.

“Emma, I’ve already made my opinion of this wedding clear,” she began. “If you’re looking for someone to reassure you and nudge you up towards the altar, then you’ve come to the wrong person.”

Emma nodded. “I know. I don’t want a nudge towards the altar. I just need a friend to get me out of here.” She plucked at the lacy cuffs of her dress. “Look at this thing. It’s hardly me, is it?”

Belle shook her head. “I had to double take when I first saw you.”

“It’s Killian’s mother’s,” Emma went on, and she resumed her pacing. “She had it altered for me. Didn’t even consult me. She was saying something about not having a daughter to pass it on to, and I would be her daughter soon, and I should wear it as a symbol of becoming part of their family. And before I could even get the chance to say well actually, it’s my wedding and I’d like to have a say in my own wedding dress, Killian was off on one about how generous his mother had been and all the trouble she’d been to, and how I ought to be grateful because it wasn’t like I had a family of my own to do these kinds of things for me.”

“Emma, that’s awful,” Belle said plainly.

“I don’t want to live like this anymore.” Emma sighed. “I chose the worst possible time to realise that.”

“That might have been my fault,” Father Macavoy said. “When she arrived I remarked on how much she looked like Grace Kelly.”

“Whose life pretty much ended when she got married,” Emma added. “And that’s when I realised that I did not want that to happen to me.”

Belle smiled. “Well, at least you came to your senses in the nick of time.”

“If I may add my own opinion,” Father Macavoy began timidly. Belle and Emma looked towards him. “I would just say that God is forgiving, and He wouldn’t think any the less of you for not honouring the commitment that you made to Mr Jones when you agreed to marry him. He would far rather that you went into any marriage knowing your true feelings, rather than making that vow with any degree of unsureness that might cause it to be broken down the line. Best to make that break now, before you make a promise in His eyes.”

“So you think I should run?” Emma said.

Father Macavoy nodded. “I would say that’s in your best interest.”

“Thank you, Father.”

Belle took charge. “Come on, let’s get you out of this circus. Father, is there any other way out of the vestry?”

“Only through the window.” Father Macavoy indicated the large stained-glass pane that stood half-open, letting in the light spring breeze. Emma and Belle looked at each other, and Emma smiled for the first time since Belle had entered the room. She handed Emma her car keys and the other woman hitched up her full skirts and climbed onto the dresser, wriggling through the window and landing in the flowerbeds outside. She gave Belle a little wave.

“Remember that the reception’s been prepaid!” she said, and rushed down the churchyard to where Belle’s car was parked, much to the alarm of the last few guests who were arriving.

Once she was safely away, Belle turned back to the priest.

“Thank you, Father.”

“Thank you, Miss French. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to convince her on my own. Having met the couple as often as I have in the run up to today, I’ve never been happier to have a bride run out on me.”

“So what do we do now?” Belle asked. “There’s a church full of people and a jilted fiancé who doesn’t know that he’s been hilted yet. Someone’s going to have to tell them.”

“Leave that to me.” Father Macavoy left the vestry, and Belle watched through the crack between the door and the frame.

“Thank you all for coming,” the priest began. “However, there will be no marriage taking place here today.”

“What?” Killian exclaimed. “Where’s Emma?”

“Not here,” Father Macavoy said. “Nor is she coming. Now, I appreciate the inconvenience that’s been caused to you all, but as I said, there will be no wedding here today. I have, however, been asked to remind you that the reception has already been paid for and you’re all welcome to go and enjoy yourselves there. Thank you.”

He made to go back into the vestry but Killian grabbed his arm.

“Is this some kind of joke?” he asked.

“Not at all, Mr Jones, and I would remind you before you do anything too rash that you are in a house of God.”

Killian was looking positively murderous, but he let go of Father Macavoy’s arm, allowing the priest to escape into the vestry.

“Well, that could have gone a lot worse,” he remarked to Belle. “I believe we deserve a cup of tea after that, Miss French, don’t you?”

He went over to the electric kettle and Belle nodded.

“Yes, Father. But you can call me Belle.”

“In that case Belle, you can call me Joseph.”

“Father, really…”

“Really.” Joseph made two mugs of tea and passed one to Belle. “I’m very glad you came when you did. I don’t think that I could have gone through with the ceremony in all good faith, knowing what I do of those two.”

Belle nodded. There would be a hell of a lot of fallout from this. It was still far from over, but for now, they were safe in the vestry and Emma was safely away from the scene. Listening to the baffled congregation filing out of the church, Belle sipped her tea and looked at her partner in crime with a smile. She’d never seen him in full white and purple vestments before; during his services he tended to dispense with the ceremony and stick to his usual dark suit. She preferred the suit, the vestments seemed to drown him a bit. It was a shame when she finished her tea, as it meant that she’d have to leave his quiet company and go and deal with the consequences of Emma’s unexpected flit.

“Thank you for the tea, Joseph.”

“You’re welcome, Belle.”

It really was a shame that he was a priest. Belle thought, as she got to her feet and went over to him. The hug that she gave him was entirely unexpected.  She hadn’t meant to do it. She just found herself throwing her arms around him.

“Thank you so much. For everything.”

“All I did was make the announcement and offer a window to escape out of,” Joseph said, bashful.

“No, before then. For all these weeks. Thank you for listening.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

Belle nodded. “Yes, I guess so. But, you know. Maybe sometimes we could talk without the confessional wall between us?”

Joseph smiled. “I’d like that very much, Belle.”

She paused. “I’ve just had a thought. Now that Emma’s taken my car, I have no way to get to the reception to deal with things there.”

“Would you like a lift?” Joseph asked. There was a tone of hope in his voice. Belle nodded.

“That would be wonderful, thank you. I’ll… let you get changed.”

She pecked his cheek in gratitude and maybe promise, and left the vestry into the empty church. When she looked back over her shoulder, Joseph was still standing exactly where she’d left him, his fingertips touching his cheek where her lips had been. Belle smiled. Yes. For everything that had happened, it was going to be a good day.


End file.
